


No Going Back

by Fushi



Category: Rooster Teeth Productions RPF
Genre: M/M, RTStuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fushi/pseuds/Fushi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Achievement Hunters are in the middle of their SBURB session when Gavin disappears suspiciously and Michael leaves to find him. His failed quest brings him a homecoming like no other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was just so fucking typical that something is wrong. You know from the lack of sound and the empty halls as you come back from your trip. There’s always something going on in headquarters. Either Geoff and Jack are planning the next ten steps, Ray gets troubled over his botany issues, or Gavin pulls a prank to piss someone off. Well, not that last part recently, after his wordless disappearance from the building you five call home. That’s why you had left. To find Gavin.

All the lights are out, the windows blank. There’s always someone awake, to be on guard. You can feel the hairs raise on your arms as you’re filled with dread. You enter through the front door, pushing it open and are surprised to find it unlocked. You shouldn’t be. Everything is wrong.

You want to flip the lights on, but for once you think masking your presence is for the best. You feel the urge to run screaming and yelling and go through the building asking everyone what the hell is wrong, but it’s suppressed by instinct. This isn’t the time to Rage Quit your fear.

You turn around the bend in the hall, peeking in every passing room the moon lights. Geoff’s of scattered photos from a life gone by. Jack’s domain of beer. Ray’s of failed plants and dirt. Yours of game memorabilia. Gavin’s clean slate tidiness. All empty, until you reach the last room, the combined living-kitchen-dining room. And you wish you hadn’t.

Anything, death included, would be better than what you’re seeing. Three bodies, three friends are placed strategically around the room, dark liquid in excess around their prone forms. You know they’re dead. Jack’s sitting in a chair around the kitchen island, turned around. He probably didn’t see what got him. Ray is halfway across the room, face down and fallen, one hand extended forward. Geoff is in the middle of the room in front of the couch, glossed eyes staring at the ceiling, a foot placed idly upon him.

You kind of wish you had been weak enough to be killed out on your search for Gavin. Because you’ve finally found him.

He’s sitting on the couch, a small smirk on his face. He’s different, white hair replacing sandy blond, dark gray skin instead of peach, black energy coalescing around him and lighting the room for you to see, and most disturbing of all: his new pair of blank white globes.

“Are you next then?” Gavin says, his voice filled with glee but not with his trademark accent. That’s what finally snaps you. This isn’t Gavin, it can’t be.

You lunge across the room and punch him in the face. You start screaming immediately. “YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT! WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!” In the middle of your screams, Gavin rolls you off him and pins your wrists with his hands.

"Getting a little feisty, aren’t we?” There’s humor, of all things, in his voice, but his mouth is now twisted down and his eyebrows are troubled.

“FUCKING FEISTY? WHAT-” you draw a deep breath. “You did this, didn’t you?” you ask, the screaming gone and replaced with shaky anger.

“A little redecorating was in order. You four had poor interior design going on.” The smirk is back before being whisked away. “Who- who are you?”

You let loose a death threat. The first one you’ve ever really meant. “I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU, GAVIN.” You throw all of your muscle and strength back against his grip, only to be restrained effortlessly. The rage is coming through, all those times where you were just frustrated at a video game were nothing compared to this. Not even Catherine held half the anger that courses in you now. Your muscles tense and your face pinches, you know you’ll be exploding soon.

His face collapses in mild horror, eyebrows quirked up in the middle and mouth fallen open. “Mi-cool?” he whispers, in that stupid way you used to love. A flicker of hazel is visible in his snow white eyes.

You’re thrown for a second, your rage mollified for a moment by confusion. “Gav-?” And quicker than the second syllable of his name, his face turns to rage trademark to you, completely foreign, and everything goes black.


	2. Chapter 2

Tea parties aren’t your thing. They’re for little girls and apparently Gavin. You thought it was all over, you’d never wake up again and that’d be it. But instead you’re tied up to a chair, around a table filled with china, tea, and four other guests. Geoff, Ray, and Jack are slumped over in their chairs, bodies still soaked with their own blood. You’re filled with disgust as soon as you realize that they would’ve had to have been moved there to participate in this twisted party.

The location of this fabulous dining event is on the edge of a cliff, on a cloudy and windy day. You’re seated at one head of the table, the other head is occupied by none other than your gracious host.

“Finally awake, are we?” he grins. The clarity is still present in his voice while the accent lacks. You try to get up only to be hindered by your binding. Ropes press you into the back of a wooden chair and you groan.

“Gavin, you’re really a sick fuck,” you say in response. There’s that anger in you, but it’s lying underneath a layer of exasperation and disgust.

He looks bemused. “That’s a little rude. Tea?” He gestures in front of you and picks up a cup himself and starts to enjoy it.

You start to toss around a million questions. Why aren’t you dead? He killed all of your friends, and had looked ready to kill you in your last memory. Which leads to a better question; why did he kill all of them? Why does Gavin look like this? Your head spins with questions and you set them on lockdown, sticking to the facts. He had killed them, and you are bound to be next after he toys with you. Like a cat and a bird with a broken wing.

“I’d rather die first than enjoy your fucking hospitality,” you retort. You’re actually surprised the anger hasn’t risen and overcome you yet. A few seconds staring at Ray’s matted hair of blood has you making another decision. “In fact, I think that’s what I’ll do anyways.” You start to bump your chair back by throwing your weight back on forth on the feet of the chair. The cliff edge is only a few feet away, telling from a glance over your shoulder.

“Now you’re just being silly.” A frown creases those features highlighted with unfamiliarity. The black aura pulses around him agitatedly. But you’re not being silly at all, you’re just taking the fastest route out of the torture room. A few more bumps and you feel yourself pitch over the edge.

It’s simultaneously fast and slow, a moment captured and whisked away. You know for sure that you’ll be dead this time. Nothing can stop any of it and you experience that typical last moment where you see everyone for the last time. Both Gavin and this evil replacement flash by you, until you realize the latter isn’t flashing at all. It’s staring at you in the face.

“Michael, you doughnut! You could’ve hurt yourself!” he screeches, in the voice of the former. Hazel bleeds through white eyes again and the tendrils of black are missing. Gavin’s gripping you around the middle and makes quick work of the rope. The rope and the chair fall to the ground as you slump in confusion. He’s floating in midair with you, but not for long before he brings you back to the edge of the cliff and releases you. The moment his hands are gone, the black webs are back and the irises are gone.

“Why?” you ask, dejected. You feel a deep weight of disappointment and something else settle on your chest.

“Why what?” he frowns, turning from you, voice back to perfect pronunciation.

“Why DID YOU KILL THEM BUT YOU WON’T KILL ME?” you scream, finally feeling the anger you’ve been expecting for too long. The blackness surrounding him twitches a little, the swirls coalesce angrily.

“I don’t know,” he mutters.

“What?!” you ask, voice thick with frustration.

“I said ‘I don’t know’!” he turns back to you abruptly, hands bunched at his sides and the web of black exploding angrily outwards. It’s that same face you saw before he knocked you out. Only this time, Gavin pulls it back and you realize you can read his emotions from the cloud of darkness that engulfs him.

The two of you stand in silence. You clench and unclench your fists as you watch him, watch the mess of emotions projected from him. He refuses to look at you, and you can feel the anger well up inside of you again before it’s abated.

And just replaced with misery. You walk over to Jack, put a hand on his shoulder and feel the stickiness of the blood on his shirt. His glasses are still on his face, and you’re glad his eyes are closed. You feel the well of regret in your stomach before you walk over to Geoff. The best boss ever is now staring at you with empty eyes and dried blood leading from the edge of his mouth down his chin and continued on his shirt where it mingles with the rest of his blood. You feel something moving in your throat and you choke a little before you move on and get to Ray.

It’s at this point you can feel it in you. Your throat burns and your knuckles are white as you grip your hands in fists too tight. You feel the tears edging up around your eyes as you shut them, trying to fight them off, when you hear the voice.

_‘Kiss him.’_

What sort of homosexual thought did you just have? You’re really so sick as to think of this shit while he’s right there, dead-

_‘Kiss him!’_

This time it’s more insistent and you’re sure it’s not you.

_‘What are you waiting for?’_

There’s no way.

_‘Just do it!’_

You’re too tired to argue, so you lean forward to Ray, and lightly press your lips to his.

Nothing happens and you scream at yourself internally. The tears come down and you feel someone behind you. You spin to see that it’s Gavin, angry again. And confused if the eyebrows tell you anything.

“What are you doing?”

“Whatever I fucking want!” you retort. You step around him, skin crawling. As you pass him to go sit on the edge, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You jump slightly in surprise and pull out your phone to stare at it in wonder. You look over your shoulder to see if Gavin is watching. He’s staring at Ray and the spot where you just were, with confusion written clear.

You unlock your phone and stare at the message.

 **RN:** Michael??

You quickly text back while you’re not being kept on the leash by the spawn of satan.

 **MJ:** Ray? Is that you?

 **RN:** I’m supposed to be dead.

 **MJ:** What??

 **RN:** No one else is answering my texts.

 **RN:** What’s going on?

 **RN:** These are pretty sweet pajamas.

You get an idea, and you hate it. But if it’s supposed to work, you’ll do it. You try to look as casual as possible as you get back over to Jack. You frown intensely but lean over as quick as possible to plant a big gay one on him. You get to Geoff’s side and repeat the same ministrations. You try not to look disgusted, but it fails you.

You feel a few more buzzes in your pocket, but you’ve definitely caught the attention of satanic Gavin now. “What. Are you doing?” His hand raises and lands on your shoulder menacingly.

“Get the fuck off me.” You twist away from him but he isn’t having any of that. He just grips tighter.

“Tell. Me.” Staring up into his blanket white eyes, you feel a squick of fear to accompany your anger. A million things keep telling you that Gavin is gone, and the fact that he can actually be scary is just another one of those million things.

“Just saying my farewells since you didn’t give me a chance to,” you lie through your teeth.

“Strange way to go about it.” He pauses. “Now to finish tea time.”

“You better be fucking kidding. The only thing I’m finishing is this contact.” You shove him off you and turn for the edge, starting to scramble your way down the inclined surface of boulders and rocks.

About a quarter of the way down, you turn back and don’t see anything. The table, the bodies, and Gavin are all gone. It’s just you and a world full of empty.

 **GR:** Buddy, I owe you big time.

 **GR:** We all do.

 **GR:** You and Gavin are still asleep here.

 **GR:** Your dream selves are, at least. It’s a little late in the game to have to explain this, but I thought you guys would wake up before this. They’re basically extra lives.

 **GR:** Listen. This is going to be hard. 

**GR:** You have to kill Gavin.


	3. Chapter 3

You encounter the edge of a forest at the bottom of the cliff incline. The trees are made of bones and strips of flesh replace leafs. Geoff’s world wasn’t anything short of mildly creepy. You shiver as the temperature seems to drop a few degrees and the light in the sky dims under the cover of trees. You finally notice your phone buzzing a mile a minute and pull it out to examine the variety of texts sent to you.

Geoff’s trying to lay out a plan to you, Jack sent you a simple message of gratitude, and Ray is telling you how great you are for saving them all. You pad along through the forest, hoping to find a way out. You pull out your strife specibi, a battered sword with a small emblem of Fluttershy in the hilt.

 **MJ:** What are you talking about Ray?

 **RN:** Pretty homo of you to kiss us on impulse but it sure saved our asses.

 **RN:** Apparently bossman knew about the kissing thing all along but didn’t tell any of us.

 **MJ:** Not like any of us would’ve wanted to do that anyways.

 **RN:** Definitely worth the resurrection. I’m just wondering how you knew.

 **MJ:** I didn’t.

You leave it at that and switch over to Geoff as Ray burns up with questions.

 **MJ:** What’s all this about killing Gavin?

 **GR:** Well, you won’t be really killing him. If you kiss him after he’s dead like you kissed us, he’ll just wake up.

 **GR:** Brand new, minus that nasty aura and mental illness.

As the conversations continue to tangle you up, you keep a careful eye on your surroundings. You can feel yourself physically calming down, the brief instance of grief that had recently held itself in your chest growing smaller and smaller. It wasn’t as comforting as seeing them in the flesh would’ve been, but you feel good about bringing them back, no matter the method.

 **MJ:** Yeah, what the hell is the whole deal with him going crazy and not-Gavin?

 **GR:** Like I said, mental illness unique to SBURB. He was overpowered by the ‘horrorterrors’ and supposedly that gives him both power and a real seizure, of sorts.

 **MJ:** Well that explains how he killed all three of you.

 **GR:** History says he wouldn’t’ve been able to.

 **MJ:** Who says I want to kiss him anyways?

 **GR:** Dude, at this point, you’ve gone the full homo and necro with kissing three dead guys.

You decide to ignore that and go a different route in the conversation.

 **MJ:** Why didn’t he kill me?

 **GR:** I don’t know. That’s the weirdest thing in all of this. Besides you kissing three dead guys.

 **MJ:** SHUT UP ABOUT THAT ALREADY

 **GR:** Just saying, Michael.

You stop for a moment, your ears picking up a soft crackling noise. You stuff your phone back into your sylladex and grip your sword with both hands. You step on a bit of fallen flesh yourself, grimacing when it crackles. Flesh shouldn’t make that kind of noise, but the skinned forest seems to emulate a real one for all appearance. At this point, the cover by the trees overhead casts a dark shadow upon everything, imitating night time without moonlight. Very soft yellow bleeds through in some spots, enough for you to see, but so little as to make the space farther than a few feet from your person ambiguous.

An imp pops out and throws itself at you.

“WHOA THERE!” you exclaim as you avoid it and swing a sword its way. It pops open and grist falls to the ground.

“Just some small fry,” you mutter to yourself, preparing for some exercise as a few more slide out of the darkness towards you.

You make quick work of the small pack before continuing on your way. You really should focus on getting out of this forest. You have no idea where you are, and where the headquarters are. As morbid as the building is, it’s probably a good thing to do to progress. Besides finding Gavin.

You really don’t want to find him. Because Geoff’s right. You’ll have to kill him.

 **GR:** But you do want him back to normal don’t you?

 **GR:** He’ll be fine as long as you corpse-smooch him.

 **GR:** The three of us can’t do much until you do. He’ll just kill us again and then we’ll really be dead.

 **GR:** Take advantage of the fact that he won’t kill you, for whatever reason.

Stop being so sensible. The edges of your vision wobble and more monsters appear in your path. You yell in anger and take your fury out on another pair of imps. After you’re finished with them, you jump atop the back of an ogre and reach with your sword to slice his head off. He twists violently and you end up falling off instead of killing it, smashing into the ground hard with your elbow.

“OW FUCK!” you scream before rolling out of the way when the ogre tries to smash you with its fist. You jump up and grip your sword with your left hand, right arm limp and blazing with pain. You just pray it’s not broken.

You finish off the ogre and curse yourself for making such a rookie mistake. And at such a critical time.

You stumble through the forest for a minute before hearing more crackling. You sigh, and turn around, lifting your sword up into a ready stance. A tall form appears and you jump at it, swinging, only to be knocked over and have your sword flying out of your hand. You don’t land as horribly as you did earlier, this time on your back. Your first instinct is to twist yourself over to fling yourself and grab your weapon, but you’re detained by a hand pressed against your shoulder.

It’s Gavin, and you didn’t have to find him.

He’s frowning when you notice the details. “What’s wrong with your arm?” he asks, kneeling next to you and holding your left shoulder down with his hand.

“It’s probably broken,” you sigh, defeated. You find that you aren’t so angry with him any more. It’s all his fault, but in the end everyone is still alive.

His frown deepens and he steps back from you. You use your chance to scramble over to your sword and regain your feet. When you look back to him, he’s got a bone from one of the trees and some flesh in a hand. He walks over to you and grabs your arm, a neutral expression on his face.

You twist your shoulder so that it pulls your arm from his grasp. He doesn’t move, but the web around him stretches out and snaps back. “What are you doing?” you ask warily, sword arm in front, but sword pointed at the ground. For now.

“I’m trying to splint it. That’s what you’re supposed to do, aren’t you?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah. I don’t know if I trust you to do it right, though,” you shrug noncommittally.

“Why’s that?” He looks frustrated now, full arms outstretched towards you.

“Various reasons.” You smirk.

“Care to explain?” And his patience was wearing thin, if his veil of emotions is any indicator.

“One, you’re an evil bastard who killed all my friends. Two, you were always kind of an idiot.” You felt bad that the second part was in the past tense. He’s gone, you keep reminding yourself as you notice all the things that are wrong, over and over again. Beyond the obvious changes, the ones that bother you most are the subtle ones. The way he holds himself, the angry curve to his eyes, the volatile nature of his feelings. You just really wish that he’d laugh and smile like he used to, or make a miniature banshee screech when something goes wrong for him.

“I had to. I’m sorry.” And he really does look apologetic, mouth curved unsatisfactorily, staring at the ground, withdrawn slightly.

“You HAD TO?” your voice raises at the end, unable to contain what anger you do have. They’re alive, but he doesn’t know they are. It doesn’t make up for what he’d done.

“They told me to,” he explains uncomfortably. “They still want me-” he stops, shoulders pinched up. “They still want me to.” The bone and flesh rolls out of his hand onto the ground. He bunches in on himself, the aura around him closing in tight but full of energy.

“They want you to what?” You put away your strife specibi and step towards him. He’s facing the ground, misery written clear across his features.

“It’s hard. But I won’t,” he mutters, mostly to himself. He seems to notice you’ve gotten so close and he raises his chin a bit to look you in the eyes. “They want me to kill you,” he says quietly, anguished.

You feel every instinct in you scream to step back and pull out your sword. But before you can, his face breaks and he grabs your shoulder. “But I could never kill you, Mi-cool!” And it’s another moment of the real Gavin, grey washed from his face and eyes back to that weird mix of blue and green, distressed accent apparent. It’s intensified, stronger than the first or second time he was back, and you feel a great sense of relief in your chest.

He stares at you for a few seconds, eyes desperately searching for something. Suddenly his face pulls back and the grimness is back. He lets go of you and picks up the splint materials, quashing that sense of relief as his eyes return to their soulless white. This time, he doesn’t say anything and starts to set your arm with the bone and wraps it around with the strips of flesh. Frankly, you’re a little surprised that he ends up being competent enough to set it properly.

He looks at your arm for a few moments before staring at you again, neutral expression in place. And then he’s gone.

You curse quietly. Because you don’t know if you could ever kill him either.


End file.
